


I'm the Scene, You're the Director

by slashter



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: 69 (Sex Position), Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Fashion & Models, Blow Jobs, Comeplay, Dom/sub Undertones, Face-Fucking, M/M, Masturbation, Recreational Drug Use, Shotgunning, devil wears prada AU (of sorts)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-01
Updated: 2015-08-01
Packaged: 2018-04-12 08:53:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4473086
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/slashter/pseuds/slashter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Zayn has yet to not get a stiffy when he sees Louis on set--just the idea of Louis being so in control of everything, shouting commands at him, walking up to him when he's in a pose and touching him everywhere, moving him around so he looks better--it's definitely somewhat of a fear boner, but in the best way possible. Honestly, he kind of wants Louis to destroy him, and that desire hasn't wavered a bit over the past two years.</i>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>[Or the one where Louis tells Zayn what to do, Zayn (usually) fights back, and neither of them can get enough of it]</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'm the Scene, You're the Director

**Author's Note:**

  * For [words_unravel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/words_unravel/gifts).



> HI!  
> So this is written for the Zouis ficathon--god bless. I had so much fun writing this even though I was completely stuck on what to do with this fic for most of the time I was working on it...I'm happy with how it turned out though :)
> 
> Huge s/o to [Alora](http://zaptains.tumblr.com) for organizing this and answering all my weird questions about things on Twitter  
> also big s/o to my lovely betas [Shayla](http://fuckkyliejenner.tumblr.com) and [Izzy](http://ridiculouslittleidiots.tumblr.com) for catching all my stupid spelling and punctuation mistakes and pointing out to me where my fic doesn't make sense...heh
> 
> And last but not least, thanks to the lovely words_unravel for the prompt. I hope I did it justice!!!
> 
> ~Title is from Frame and Focus by Lights
> 
>  **Disclaimer:**  
>  I don't own One Direction nor am I affliliated with anyone involved with them. This is purely a piece of fiction.

\------

 

Louis Tomlinson is a fucking typhoon. 

Zayn has no idea what he's watching the other man do, let alone what he's doing himself, but if he was getting glared at like the boy Louis' looking at right now, he'd be pissing his pants in an instant.

"Jordan," Louis starts, holding a shirt up like he's disgusted with it, just the collar pinched between his index finger and thumb, "what the _fuck_ is this?"

"Um," the kid--Jordan--starts, obviously sweating bullets. He's young, younger than Zayn, even, and probably just as new, looking wide-eyed and nervous to be in front of one of the most notoriously ruthless people in the fashion industry. "A shirt?"

"A shirt," Louis repeats, unamused, then purses his lips and nods, turning the garment in question around in the air. "Right, of course. Just a shirt. It's not, y'know, worth more than what you're getting paid today or anything. It's not a one-of-a-kind designer garment made by someone who spits on the graves of people like you. It's not a _horrendously_ dyed--" Louis snaps, flinging the shirt into Jordan's face, " _five_ _thousand dollar_ piece of clothing that has _obviously_ been handled by some nitwit who doesn't fucking know what ombre means!"

Jordan stands there, blinking, lip quivering, as if he's about to cry. "I--" he starts, but there's no use trying to talk when he's being stared down the way he is.

"I know the kind of person you are, Jordan. I know you, coming from a small town, stitching your own cute little ragtag clothes that no one appreciates or admires because they're mostly shit, but you think you've got a _real_ eye for fashion, you think you know something that no one else does," Louis begins, pasting a fake smile onto his face and clasping his hands, leaning forward patronizingly, "so you pack up your shitty little bedazzled bag and move to the big city, knowing that someway, somehow, you're just going to get your big break, and you try so hard and work your perky little bum off at a stupid diner or theatre or something idiotic and then you somehow land this job and think you've finally reached your dreams, that this is your first step to success or whatever pathetic little fantasy you've built up in your head. Did I get that right?"

Jordan just blinks again, unable to speak, but from the way he's glancing around nervously, wide-eyed, Zayn guesses that Louis' speech must have been spot-on.

"Well, unfortunately, Jordan, you're fucking delusional," Louis says, face dropping back into a scowl. "And you can't even fucking _dip-dye_ a t-shirt, and I won't stand for untrained, untalented amateurs flopping around like dead fish on my set." 

Jordan's jaw drops. "But--"

"You're fired. Get out of the building," Louis says, turning to walk away. "Oh, but you can keep the shirt. See how much you can get for it. That should teach you to not fuck around with my wardrobe department."

Zayn watches, aghast, as a now silently bawling Jordan, looks down at the shirt in his hands and then around him at all the people who're carefully ignoring the thorough scolding he's just been given. Zayn wants to speak up but he guesses that it's not the smartest thing to do at the moment, and it's not like he's got any seniority on this set, so he just watches, guilt-ridden, as the other boy cries into his sleeve, walking out of the building.

 

"Malik!" Louis' voice calls, from his other side. Oh shit. "Do I need to have you on a fucking leash or something? Jesus christ."

"Coming!" Zayn answers, before jogging over to Louis' side. "I, um. I'm here."

"Would you like a cookie?" Louis remarks snidely, turning and putting his hands on Zayn's shoulders. "Look up."

Zayn does as ordered, then turns to the left and right, just like Louis tells him to do.

"Not bad," Louis says, to apparently no one, but then Zayn catches sight of a thin brunette next to him with a clipboard and a headset. "Good hair, great skin--do you shave?"

"Um. Sometimes?" Zayn answers, and watches as Louis hums and the girl next to him scribbles something down. 

"From now on, don't," Louis says, grabbing Zayn's jaw and turning his head to the right. "Scruff will suit you, bring out your jawline. Keep it tidy, though. He needs to trim his fucking nose hair, Eleanor, make sure to get that," Louis says then, and the girl, Eleanor, nods seriously, both of them talking as if Zayn isn't right there. "And clean your fucking ears, Malik, _jesus_. I know you're new but cotton buds cost, like, five pounds at most."

Eleanor snickers and Zayn blushes in embarrassment. He's not used to being talked to this way, though, and he doesn't know what suddenly explodes inside of him and makes him ask Louis the next question--maybe it's just his ego, expecting more respect from being the model at this photoshoot.

"Why'd you fire that kid--Jordan?" Zayn stutters out a moment later, as Louis is sifting through a box of scarves. "He probably _really_ needed this job."

Louis' head snaps to Zayn, as if he was never expecting Zayn to speak of his own accord. His eyes narrow. "Don't worry about my decisions unless they're related to you," he says easily, choosing a dark maroon scarf and tossing it over his shoulder. "And you're fresh meat, Malik, so don't think that you deserve to know everything about every choice I make on set."

Zayn frowns. "My name's _Zayn_ ," he blurts out, then his eyes widen, surprised at his own attitude. He has no idea what's bringing this out of him but there's something about Louis he's having trouble with, like that feeling he gets around people who don't seem to be acting like who they really are, just for show.

Louis raises an eyebrow, hand on his waist, hip cocked. "Well," he starts, " _Zayn_. You've got a little mouth on you, don't you? Hmm." Louis crosses his arms. "I guess I'll show pity since this is your first shoot with me. Maybe you'll get an idea of who I am or, god forbid, why I'm the best at what I do."

Eleanor throws Zayn a snobby look and Zayn coughs nervously before Louis clears his throat and starts speaking.

"I'm a _name_ in this business, Mal--Zayn," Louis catches himself, and smirks. "I’m the best fucking photo shoot coordinator around. People expect a certain quality of work from me, a certain caliber of performance, and I can't have that tarnished. So I don't care what the fuck Jordan came into this expecting, but trust me. He's going to face a lot worse in this industry, and this experience will only make him work harder and better at anything he'll do in the future. Also, he worked with me for about a week. That's pretty long, considering he was working for me. A week with me is better than a few months with some other useless clods in my line of business. He'll do fine with my name on his CV, even if it was for a blink of an eye. So I basically did him a favor. He'll be able to get better opportunities and work on his skills and who knows? Maybe in a few years I'll see him again and he'll know exactly how to dye a gradient onto a t-shirt." Louis smiles condescendingly at Zayn, reaching out to pinch his cheek. "Happy?" he asks, and Zayn rubs the side of his face, a bit shocked at the overload of information. He nods slowly. 

"Louis, you've got--" Eleanor starts, and Louis waves his hand at her.

"I know, I know. I'm moving. You've put me off my schedule, Zayn. Try not to do it again," he comments, turning to walk away, but then stopping after just a couple of meters. "Oh! And that t-shirt I let him keep?" Louis gives Zayn a devilish grin. "It's still worth at least a couple thousand pounds. He'll be just fine."

Zayn bites back a smile that, for some reason, seems to be showing up right then. He doesn't know if it's just Louis' expressions that must be incredibly infectious, but Louis catches it and laughs the entire walk away from Zayn.

 

About an hour later, Zayn is standing outdoors in a gorgeous garden, surrounded by flowers so brightly colored he can't help but squint everywhere he looks. He's only in a thin robe, his hair and makeup completed--he looks weird but still amazing, his eyebrows covered and lips painted nude, small fake flowers glued carefully all over his face to make him look like some sort of sprite--but he hasn't been able to find out what he's supposed to be wearing yet.

"Um--" he starts, trying to ask some important, busy-looking people around him, but no one pays him any mind. There's a couple other models around too, but they're either on their phones or taking a smoke break behind the makeup tent. Speaking of, Zayn could really use one himself right now. He's practically shaking from nervousness, and it's not like this is his first shoot or anything, but just having Louis around is making him want to jump out of his skin. He feels his heart jump every time he hears Louis' voice or sees his gorgeous, tan face on set, and it's proving a solid problem, especially down below. He's half-hard now and he doesn't even know why, all that's happened is a shouting spell from Louis aimed at one of the set workers, since the flowers apparently aren't blue enough. It doesn't even make sense but all he really wants Louis to do right now is to kick his ass and stuff his dick into Zayn's mouth.

Well--okay, that was a big jump from before. Zayn is sure he's blushing now and he takes a deep breath, willing himself to calm down, trying to think of gross things to get his boner to go away.

"Zayn!" a sharp voice calls, and his efforts are fruitless. His cock gives a small jump and he almost falls out of his chair, fast-walking over to where Louis is standing at the entrance of the tent, a scowl on his face, arms crossed. Louis takes one obviously disgusted look at Zayn's state of undress and raises an eyebrow. "Why aren't you dressed yet?"

"No one--I mean, I didn't--" Zayn starts, but then catches Louis' smirk. Something in him flares again and he stares Louis down, crossing his own arms and taking a deep breath. "I'm not dressed yet because you obviously don't know how to do your job."

Louis' smirk falls and his eyes narrow. " _What_ did you just--"

"If you did your job properly," Zayn continues, injecting as much attitude into his tone as possible, "I would be dressed and ready to go by now. But it's apparent that all that…talk about you being important was just that. Talk."

Louis looks shocked. Zayn would too if he had a brain, but for some reason he just keeps giving Louis a smug look and Louis looks more and more unreadable by the second. Eventually, after about a minute of silence, Louis just turns to the group of people standing nervously behind him.

"Is there a reason you're all just standing around?" he starts, his voice so venomous that Zayn shudders in response--and so does his dick. "Zayn isn't dressed yet and I don't have time to do everyone's job." He narrows his eyes. "That is, of course, if any of you even _have_ a job anymore."

There's a moment of silence and then pandemonium as everyone runs to get everything in place. 

"This shoot is starting in _five_ minutes and _anyone_ responsible for anything that's not where it should be by then is going to be _fired_." Louis yells, apparently satisfied at the chaos, and then turns to Zayn and frowns again. 

"Better," Zayn says, before being yanked away by a couple people in wardrobe.

 

\------

**2 YEARS LATER**

**\------**

 

"Mr. Malik, how nice of you to finally show up," a voice sarcastically calls, when Zayn manages to arrive on set. He's only an hour late this time, though, and he's definitely been more tardy before, so he doesn't even react to the statement, just grunts in acknowledgement to whomever said that. Probably someone unimportant, to be honest.

He's got dark shades on to hide his bloodshot eyes--for some reason, he hasn't been able to get any sleep for the last couple of days--and his nails are kind of bitten down to the nub, something the makeup artist _tsk_ s at upon seeing.

"You look like shit," she comments, and Zayn just rolls his eyes.

"Thanks, Lou," he mutters, watching her open up, like, five different pots of concealers in order to mix together something that'll match his skin tone. "Nice to see you too. How's Lux?"

Lou smirks, picking up a brush and dabbing it in the mixture she's prepared in a small, plastic palette. "She's good. Really likes school, so I guess I'm lucky. How’s Perrie?"

It takes Zayn a second to realize who Lou’s talking about but he quickly gives her a smile, trying to look as lovestruck as possible.

“She’s great,” Zayn answers, as he’d practiced the week before, trying to get ready for questions like this. “Really sweet, and she’s got a big heart too.”

“She seems like a really good match for you,” Lou comments, brushing the makeup underneath his eyes. Zayn sighs, feeling his demeanor kind of deflate as he starts thinking about how this is just going to become more and more of a common occurrence in the next few weeks. He’s already been approached by a few websites to talk about his new ‘budding’ romance with Perrie, but, as sad as it sounds, it’s really only just for publicity.

Not to say he’s not into the girl--Perrie is definitely sweet, bubbly and loud and funny at all the right times. Zayn gets on really well with her, always has, and she’s a great shag when they’re both on break but he knows that she’s focusing on her career and he’s definitely well involved in his as well. It’s just that they’d been papped on a few casual dinner dates over the last month or so and all of a sudden he’d gotten a call from his manager suggesting that he try some sort of low-key relationship with her, just to keep both their names in the press, which apparently is always a good move. They’d both talked about it, of course, before moving on with anything, but they both knew it wasn’t anything serious and that they’d break it off if either one of them met someone special. Zayn doubts that’ll happen to him anytime soon, but it’s nice to think about, he supposes.

“She is, she’s--” Zayn pauses, trying to figure out how to phrase this properly. “A wonderful girl. I guess I’m lucky too.” 

He then composes his features into something expressionless as a cue for Lou to continue with her work; it also gives him an out to stop talking about this before he stumbles with his words and lets the cat out of the bag. Lou knows his face like the back of her own hand by now, though, and it doesn't take her long to have him ready for wardrobe. She spritzes some setting spray onto his face, waving her hands to fan at the skin so it dries faster.

"Keep an eye out for Tommo, he seems exceptionally bitchy today," she mutters, leaning in close to tuck a stray hair back into place. Zayn chuckles.

"Who pissed in his tea?" he comments, trying to play it cool even though his stomach still twists a bit at seeing Louis, as it always does. Zayn has yet to not get a stiffy when he sees Louis on set--just the idea of Louis being so in control of everything, shouting commands at him, walking up to him when he's in a pose and touching him everywhere, moving him around so he looks better--it's definitely somewhat of a fear boner, but in the best way possible. Honestly, he kind of wants Louis to destroy him, and that desire hasn't wavered a bit over the past two years, even with Perrie in the picture now. It's probably the weirdest turn-on he'll admit to having.

 

"Zayn!" Harry cries, when Zayn finally ambles onto set, outfitted in some tight leather trousers and a white shirt so wide-necked that it keeps sliding off his shoulder. 

"Harry," Zayn acknowledges, in a much less enthusiastic tone. It doesn't seem to deter Harry, though, who just throws him a cheery, dimpled smile and goes back to fiddling with his camera and clicking around on the computer setup in front of him.

"The lighting looks good, it's been awhile since I got to shoot you in a studio," Harry comments, looking up at Zayn and grinning. "Talk about a throwback, huh?"

Zayn nods, allowing himself a quick flashback to his second or third shoot ever, where he'd been flustered and confused as he stood around a blank, empty set, unable to connect with his surroundings because he'd only been used to shooting outdoors in actual locations, interacting with nature and losing himself in the scenery. Here, though, all eyes had been on him, and he'd found himself sweating his makeup off, almost having an anxiety attack before the young, sympathetic, quirky photographer with even quirkier tattoos had stepped in and coached Zayn through the whole shoot, relaxing him enough to get him the cover of the catalogue they'd been shooting for.

"I never thanked you properly for that," he mentions now, smiling at Harry, who laughs in response. 

"You could buy me a rolex or two, y'know," Harry says, raising an eyebrow. "A small token of your appreciation that wouldn't put a dent in your bank account."

Zayn flips Harry off, shaking his head as he walks into the middle of the set and cracks his neck, his pre-shoot ritual. It’s not like Harry is really that wrong--he does have a lot of money now, he knows that--but knowing just how rich he is sometimes throws Zayn off. He bought his mum a house after his first big campaign and still spoils his sisters with gifts, but it’s like there’s something inside him that’s afraid he’ll stop working as hard at this if he realizes that he can afford to not work at all. And Zayn’s nothing if not a perfectionist when it comes to his work.

Zayn looks around, then, and catches a glimpse of Niall, the lighting assistant, changing some bulbs and obviously ogling Harry, but he hasn't seen Louis yet, and he-- _God_ , he wants to see Louis. He catches sight of him once in a while at random parties or events but doesn't get to interact with him much, or have his undivided attention, which is what he usually prefers. It's been awhile since he's had the chance to really talk--or bicker--with Louis recently, and he really, _really_ misses it. He licks his lips, wondering if he can bring the man up without being too obvious about it, and clears his throat.

"Seen Louis around today?" he asks Harry, and watches Harry glance over at him suspiciously and then shrug.

"Yeah, sure. He's been on set for a while." Harry gives Zayn a disappointed look from the corner of his eyes. "Waiting for you."

Zayn immediately feels his cheeks heat up, and is so grateful that he's got enough product on his face to hide whatever small tinge of pink would show up on his skin. " _Me_?" he says, sounding like an idiot, and Harry rolls his eyes.

"Yes, Zayn, _you_ , the lead of this whole damn campaign," Harry chuckles, shaking his head, amused. "Do you even remember who you're shooting for?"

"Oh," Zayn says, a bit disappointed that Louis isn't really waiting just to see Zayn, like Zayn had been for him. He belatedly realizes that Harry's asked him a question, though, and then struggles to answer it. "Um--" he starts, embarrassed that he can't recall that very important detail. 

He doesn't really have a chance to, though, because a sharp, clear voice pipes up right then from somewhere behind Harry.

"It's fucking _Gucci_ , Malik," the person says, and Zayn can feel his stomach drop and gut flutter at the same time, his heart rate soaring as he sees Louis come into view. "Jesus _Christ_ , what a trainwreck," he mutters, snapping his fingers at the flustered girl next to him, who hands him an iPad. It's not Eleanor anymore--she left a while back to start her own fashion blog; it’s been doing pretty well, in Zayn’s opinion, but you must pick up amazing tips if you’re working alongside Louis Tomlinson. Zayn can tell, though, that Louis must be putting this poor new girl through hell for some good reason. Louis scrolls through it, pursing his lips a couple of times, and then taps at it a bit before giving it back to the girl.

Well, he doesn't actually give it back as much as he holds it to the side for a moment before letting go of it and walking towards Zayn while his assistant yelps and catches it right before it hits the floor. It's typical Tomlinson behavior, though, and fuck, Zayn's already getting hard.

 

"You book a fucking international ad campaign for one of the most prominent luxury brands in the world and you have the _audacity_ ," Louis states, eyes narrowing, each word venomous as he steps towards Zayn, "to not remember which brand it is?" 

Zayn wants to apologize, he really does, but only for a fleeting moment--because he catches a small glint in Louis' eyes, as if Louis is ready to fight, to argue, to snap at Zayn, and is waiting for Zayn to do the same. And that's all the motivation that Zayn needs.

"I get booked by a lot of brands," he says slowly, trying to maintain his cool and seem uninterested and unfazed by Louis' little rant. "It's not my fault if I can't remember which one has me for the current season."

Louis gives a small smile, probably by accident, but he still gives Zayn a livid glare, and Zayn is sure that if he stuck his hand in Zayn's pants right now, Zayn would come in an instant.

“Not getting distracted by that new girlfriend of yours, are we?” Louis asks, cocking his head. He says it casually but there seems to be more of a bite behind it than he’s letting on.

Zayn shrugs, nonchalant. Perrie’s rarely the first thing on his mind usually but she’s the last thing on his mind right now, and he doesn’t want to think about her while he’s on set, standing in front of his living, breathing wet dream. 

"I should--" Louis starts, but Zayn smirks and interrupts him.

"What? Kick me off the campaign? Good luck explaining _that_ to your bosses," Zayn mutters, walking backwards and angling himself towards Harry's camera. "Now can we move on with the shoot and stop with the unnecessary gossip? Contrary to popular belief," he glances at Louis, making sure to make eye contact with him, "I have other places to be."

He doesn't even bother looking at Louis after that, just does his usual routine in front of the camera to a stunned Harry and anxious Niall, who both keep shooting nervous glances at Louis. Zayn’s about to comment but then he realizes that Harry and Niall haven’t really been around for a shoot that Zayn’s had with Louis before, so they’ve never seen this side of Zayn, or this kind of dickhead banter that always happens between the two of them. It’s pretty much a common occurrence now, though, with all the regulars on set understanding that it's just this weird thing him and Louis do, and Zayn is sure Louis would find it weird if he stopped, so he just keeps doing it every chance he gets. He’s still with a job, though, as far as he knows, so maybe all this back-and-forth isn’t a total problem. 

"Okay, that looks…good?" Harry says, after a little bit, clicking through photos on his computer screen and looking to Louis for approval. Zayn finally looks over to Louis and sees him gazing at Zayn intensely, but with some strange, unfamiliar emotion reflected in his eyes, one that Zayn's not used to seeing on Louis' face. It makes him a bit uncomfortable, since he thought he pretty much had Louis figured out by now, but he tries not to let it show on his own features, and instead tries his hardest to look uninterested and annoyed. Louis hums, slowly turning to look through the photos, and nods after a bit, waving his hand at Zayn. 

"Tell Malik to change into the next outfit."

"I'm right fucking here," Zayn replies, narrowing his eyes, " _Tomlinson_." He knows Louis knows how much he hates being called by just his last name like he's some fucking drone.

Louis smirks at him. "And for that, consider yourself lucky. Go change into the black pants."

Zayn rolls his eyes, his body thrumming with adrenaline as he walks over to wardrobe and he strips down, slipping on a pair of incredibly snug briefs. He lets himself have a small squeal of excitement as his heart rate soars. It's different today, but Zayn can't put his finger on why. Louis is--he's expecting something, planning something, and Zayn doesn't know what it is, but this snappy conversation they're having, one that has small glances and smiles and playful tones thrown into it, reminds him so much of foreplay that it's too enticing to not continue on with it. He wants to see how much he can rile Louis up--and vice versa.

 

When he steps out from behind the little curtain, clad only in the underwear and nothing else, he catches Louis slowly drag his eyes up and down Zayn's torso and thighs, taking in the umpteen tattoos scrawled across his skin. It's one of Zayn's favorite traits about himself, the massive amount of ink he has, and he's lucky enough that most of the modeling industry is so invested in his face that they're willing to either accept his tattoos and work with them or spend a shitton of money to get makeup or editing to cover them up.

"Maybe next time make the padding less obvious," Louis mutters, in a faux-whisper, loud enough for the whole room to hear. It takes Zayn a second to register what Louis’ just said, and he has to fight to keep as face neutral at the unintentional compliment--because Zayn’s not wearing any padding at all. 

So he just raises an eyebrow and calmly sits down on the ground, leaning back on his hands and bending one knee, letting the other leg sprawl out in front of him, making sure Louis has got a good view of his dick.

"What padding?" he asks then, trying to keep his tone from sounding as smug as he feels, and he watches Louis blink confusedly at him, his façade dropping for an instant as he takes in the fact that, no, Zayn's not stuffed any socks down his underwear, he's just. Well-endowed, to put it nicely. Plus, the fact that he's fairly horny at the moment is only helping in this situation.

Louis doesn't reply--though his cheeks get a bit pink, so he must not have expected that--instead choosing to just purse his lips at the computer screen next to Harry as Zayn goes from pose to pose, trying to move his legs around while still maintaining an element of masculinity, because this is Gucci and they want him to look as studly as he can while rolling around the floor in a pair of pants. Zayn's done shoots with the total opposite, where they wanted him looking as slutty as possible, sticking what little arse he had out or sitting back on his heels and pouting at the camera or whatnot. Zayn remembers gaining close to a million twitter followers after those pictures had been published.

"I think we're all set," Louis says, after only a few more minutes. 

Now it's Zayn's turn to falter. He frowns. "That's it? That was only two fucking wardrobe changes."

Louis shrugs. "I think we got what we needed."

Zayn’s disappointed, of course. As much as he may take advantage of his job, he really does love it, loves being in front of the camera and getting to clear his mind like this. There’s a small curl of insecurity in his gut as he takes in what Louis’ said, that maybe he’s not as good as he used to be, but he pushes that aside. He can’t let Louis catch him moping. 

So he just rolls his eyes again. "Suit yourself. I need to take a piss," he says, standing up and stretching his back.  He makes sure to arch it enough so that his bum looks--hopefully--a bit filled out, before he goes to change back into his regular clothes. He knows that his bottom doesn't even come close to the regality of what is Louis Tomlinson's arse, but judging from the way Louis narrows his eyes at Zayn and then continues to glare at him as Zayn walks over to the toilet, he's sure he's made _quite_ the impression today.

 

He closes the door of the loo and does his business, and he's washing his hands when there's a solid knock on the door. 

“One sec,” Zayn calls, as he wipes his hands off, opening the door to a very harried-looking Louis, who pushes Zayn back into the bathroom and closes and locks the door behind him.

Zayn's frozen. He has no idea what to do. What the fuck is this? Is Louis actually going to rag on him now, scold him for his behavior? After years of this weird banter they’ve had? Shit. Did he get Louis _that_ mad? Was that why Louis had seemed so unlike himself today?

"Um--" he starts, but doesn't get to finish, because Louis slams him against the wall behind him and presses their mouths together in what Zayn can only describe as the angriest kiss he's ever been given.

When Louis pulls away, Zayn's mouth feels bruised but all he can do is stare at Louis in awe, breathing as heavily as the other man while Louis' eyes dart across his face.

"You're always such a _twat_ ," Louis snaps, readjusting his grip on Zayn's shirt and subsequently pulling them closer together. "Walking in like you fucking own the place."

Oh. _Oh_. So this is as much of a turn-on for Louis as it is for Zayn. Okay, then. He can work with this. 

Zayn smirks. "Kinda do, don't I?" he says, and Louis groans in annoyance.

"Shut _up_ ," he whines, before pulling Zayn even closer and kissing him again, hard and unforgiving. Zayn moans a bit without even realizing it and then feels Louis nip at his lips once more before finally pushing himself off of Zayn and letting out a breath, brushing his clothes off. 

"Okay. Shit, I shouldn’t have--okay, I'm good. It's all good. We're good?" Louis asks, expectantly, and Zayn kind of blinks at him, confused, before nodding slowly. Is that it? "Good. Okay, I--I'll--yeah, later," he finishes, before hurrying out of the bathroom and leaving Zayn a bamboozled, horny mess. 

Was that it? Sure, Zayn wasn't trying to get his hopes _too_ high, but. There was no way Louis hadn't felt Zayn's hard-on. Was a quick snog all he'd wanted from Zayn this whole time?

Zayn frowns, turning to the mirror and readjusting himself so he doesn't look _too_ debauched when he walks out. He's trying as hard as he can to not be disappointed, replaying what had just happened over and over in his head, but it's only when he's stopped at a Starbucks on the way home from the shoot that he remembers the small "later" that Louis had uttered, and his stomach swoops in anticipation. 

 

\------

 

It’s been almost a week since The Bathroom Incident and Zayn hasn’t told anyone about what happened--why would he, what would that lead to? First of all, any sort of connection like that between him and Louis could snowball into accusations about unfair hiring advantages or shit like that and Zayn really doesn't want that sort of talk. Secondly, he’s supposed to already be in a new, committed relationship with Perrie, and some sort of cheating scandal would be a shitload of bad press that he has no desire to deal with. 

But, at the same time, he doesn't want to give up whatever that situation in the bathroom was, and he’s sure if he explained to Louis that he’s actually more single than taken, the other man would understand. He's only had a small taste of what hooking up with Louis would be like and even that was intoxicating, so intense that Zayn's gotten off to it like three different times over the last few days.

He's got Louis' number in his phone, but it was given to him ages ago and he doesn't even know if maybe Louis has changed his number by now or if he even knows what Zayn's number is. It's probably best that he doesn't try to contact Louis directly, but…if he was to somehow kind of stalk Louis, figure out where he'd be so that he could see him again--and possibly get some sort of hot snogging session out of it--then that'd be fine, yeah?

It's actually Harry who helps him out with that, casually mentions to Zayn that there's some party his friend Nick is throwing and that Zayn should come when they run into each other at some dinner thing. Zayn usually needs a lot of coercing to even get out of the house if it's not for work or food, so he's sure that Harry's surprised when Zayn instantly agrees to come once Harry mentions that a ton of people from work are going to be there--a group of individuals that’ll probably include Louis.

So Zayn takes extra care in getting himself ready for the party, makes sure to style his hair like Lou had that one time with that single strand hanging down over his forehead and spends ages picking out a good outfit to wear. He finally settles on some black skinnies and a vest he'd made out of some high-fashion shirt that probably cost more than his phone--but he'd got it for free, so he hadn't felt really any remorse when he'd hacked off the sleeves a while back. He grabs one of his better-looking hoodies and a pack of cigs from the side table next to his door, slipping a couple spliffs into the half-empty box as well, just in case. He pats his pockets, making sure he's got his wallet, lighter, and keys, and then heads out the door, slipping a cigarette into his mouth for the walk over to Nick's.

 

Nick Grimshaw doesn't actually live that far from where Zayn stays, and Zayn's met him at a couple other places before, some parties and fashion shows and red carpets and whatnot. He knows Harry's been friends with him for a while--he's pretty sure they've fucked at some point, too--but he's never been to Nick's house itself, so he's a bit apprehensive to just show up out of nowhere. He has to keep reminding himself _why_ he's here, what he's after, and who he's longing to catch a glimpse of just to keep himself from freaking out.

It doesn't sound too loud when Zayn gets near the door, so he rings the doorbell, and Nick shows up almost immediately. Zayn's a bit afraid he's going to get turned away or have Nick make some confused remark as to why he's here, but neither one of those things happen. Instead, Nick beams at Zayn, grabbing his arm and pulling him into his place.

"Zayn's here!" he cries, and everyone around them cheers, their cups in the air. Zayn offers them all a small smile and a little wave. "C'mon, let's get you drunk."

Zayn laughs, following Nick to the bar, where he grabs three different bottles and starts mixing something somewhat lethal-looking in a cup. He adds a generous splash of juice and hands it to Zayn, who's able to take a sip without shuddering too much, so he counts that as a win.

"Is Harry here?" Zayn asks, and Nick nods, pointing up the stairs behind him. He pats Zayn on the back and walks over to talk to some of his other friends, which Zayn appreciates. He’s not sure he could’ve taken any sort of painfully awkward small talk at the moment. 

But the whole place seems pretty chill, enough people to keep the party interesting but not so many that Zayn feels suffocated or too socially anxious. He turns and walks up the steps that Nick had pointed to, hoping to see at least one familiar face upstairs.

 

"Zayn!" someone cheers again as he reaches the next floor, and it's Niall, of course it is, ruddy-faced from alcohol as he pulls Zayn into a tight hug. Zayn laughs and reciprocates the motion, winking at an endeared-looking Harry over Niall's shoulder.

"Alright, mate?" Zayn asks Harry, walking over and ruffling his hair lovingly. Harry pouts.

"I was, till you messed up my hair," he complains, running his fingers through it and making it look even more messy than it had before.

Zayn chuckles, taking another sip of his drink, sitting down next to Harry, and trying to look casual, not too eager to find out if Louis is here, though his heart is already racing. 

"Who else is here?" he asks, after a minute or so, and Harry shrugs, motioning around himself to the semi-crowded sitting room. 

"Whomever is here," he replies, and Zayn rolls his eyes, ready to mock Harry for his weird linguistic habits before he catches sight of someone tipping their head back in a laugh. Someone gorgeous, loud, and with a fantastic bum.

Zayn sneakily watches Louis continue to chatter with the people around him, some guy and girl he doesn't recognize, and he realizes that's it's almost harder to function with Louis so close to him than it was before when he was blissfully unaware of Louis' whereabouts. Now that he knows how close Louis is to him, it's taking everything in him to stop himself from marching up to the man and dragging him to some empty bedroom so that he can get his mouth on Louis' dick.

"Penny for your thoughts?" Harry supplies, and Zayn nearly chokes on his drink, having totally forgotten that there was someone near him. He coughs as a concerned Harry pats his back, helping him through the fit.

"No, no, I'm--" Zayn clears his throat. "Thanks, just--"

"Distracted?" Harry offers, raising an eyebrow and glancing over at Louis. Zayn feels blood rush to his face. "Don't worry, I get it. I happened to catch a glimpse of Louis rushing out of the loo the other day, with you walking out of it not long after. Anything you'd like to confess to?" Harry raises an eyebrow, giving Zayn a knowing smirk.

"No, your honor," Zayn deadpans, and Harry laughs. "He just came in to yell at me about my behavior on set," he lies. Well, kind of. It is a bit of truth, isn't it?

"Sure," Harry replies, side-eyeing Zayn. "So you don't want to blow him?"

Zayn chokes on air this time, wide-eyed. "What--who-- _blow_ him?" Is he really that predictable? Fuck.

"Blow who?" a third voice says, then, and Zayn looks up to see Louis looking down at him and Harry, a smirk on his face. "Has Zayn got plans for tonight?"

“It’s ‘blow _whom_ ’,” Zayn says, automatically, before he realizes that he's probably just as weird about his English as Harry is, and watches Louis frown, taken aback. Shit. “But, um,” he starts, scrambling to not lose Louis’ attention or interest, “I don’t really--well, maybe. Hopefully.” 

Louis hums in understanding. “Don’t assume you’re talking about your shiny new arm candy, then,” he says, swirling his drink around in his glass and then looking at Zayn over the rim of the cup as he takes a sip.

Zayn raises an eyebrow. _Oh_. So _that_ ’s why Louis’ been stepping around this whole thing. Zayn hadn’t even thought of the fact that Louis didn’t want to tread on any toes or ruin what he probably thought was blossoming love or whatever.

“She’s more of a,” he pauses, scratching his scruff contemplatively, “good friend.” And that’s not a lie at all, is it? Zayn glances over at Harry to see him looking at Zayn with a knowing expression on his face, as if he’d known this all along. Figures. 

Louis seems satisfied with Zayn’s answer, but then shrugs right after, looking uninterested.

"I feel sorry for the bloke that's going to end up with you tonight, then," he quips, but a bit carefully, as if he's sizing Zayn up, testing the waters to see if this back-and-forth is still okay at the moment. Does he think what happened in the bathroom somehow made Zayn want to _stop_ doing what led to having Louis’ mouth on his? As if Zayn regretted what had happened in any way? He clears his throat, determined to let Louis know that he’s up for this one hundred percent. 

"I think you might be confusing sympathy for jealousy," he quips, and sees the corner of Louis' mouth twitch upwards, his whole body relaxing a bit as well.

"Just keep telling yourself that," Louis says cooly, tapping the side of his cup slowly. Then he walks away easily, swinging his hips purposefully, probably going off to chat to someone else. Meanwhile, Zayn's so riled up that it takes Harry’s obnoxious cackle to bring him out of his daze.

" _God_ , you two are such weirdos. What kind of weak-ass flirting was that?" he comments, and Zayn scowls at him.

"It’s not weak, it’s just,” Zayn pauses, trying to find a good word to describe whatever it is he and Louis do.

“Bad?” Harry offers, and Zayn flips him off.

“Unique,” Zayn says, finally deciding on that word. “It’s unique. Also, don't you _dare_ talk to me about bad flirting when you do what you do around that boy,” he adds, motioning to where Niall's standing and laughing loudly with a few people.

Harry turns pink. "What--what do I do around him? What--"

"Harry, the bloke's so fucking gone for you, how do you not see that? He's practically humping your leg every time I see the two of you together on set, bro. C’mon.”

"I--oh," Harry says, quietly, biting his lip and contemplating what Zayn's just said. It takes him a minute, and Zayn can practically see the gears turning in his head as all the pieces fall in place and Harry comes to a realization.

" _Oh_ ," he repeats, before getting a very determined look on his face and downing the rest of his drink, setting his cup on the floor, and marching over to where Niall is. Niall turns around as Harry approaches him, looking ecstatic to see the other boy, as he always does, but then Harry grabs Niall's face in his hands and _kisses_ him. Right there. In front of _everybody_.

Zayn’s jaw drops so fast he’s surprised he doesn’t fall forward with the force of it.

Harry breaks off after a long minute but Niall just blinks at him slowly before easily pulling Harry back in, a reverent look on his face. There's a few scattered drunken cheers and wolf-whistles from around the room and even Zayn's smirking as the two of them maneuver themselves into a random corner of the room and continue snogging.

 

The rest of the night doesn't have as many fun occurrences as that, though Zayn does manage to get progressively tipsier as the night goes on, so he starts loosening up. He's out on Nick's balcony, ready to smoke a cig, when he spies one of the spliffs he'd slipped into the carton earlier. He shrugs--even though no one's around--and puts it between his lips, lighting it and taking a deep inhale. He can feel a pleasant buzz slowly roll over him as he takes another hit, then another, and he's happily stoned when the door next to him slides open and then closed.

"Can I have a go?" 

Zayn looks over, surprised at Louis' sudden appearance, his senses dulled by the weed, but nods and goes to hand him the spliff. Right before he can slip it in Louis' fingers, though, he hesitates. He can do this, right? He can be spontaneous like Harry, he can just--he should just fucking _do_ it. 

So Zayn surprises even himself and takes a huge hit before pulling Louis close to him and letting their lips _just_ touch, blowing the smoke out evenly and watching, enthralled, as Louis expertly sucks it all in. By the time Louis exhales, barely even a wisp of smoke comes out of his mouth, and Zayn raises an eyebrow, impressed. He hands Louis the spliff, then, and Louis smokes it eagerly, letting out a plume of smoke before taking another hit and leaning back in towards Zayn. Zayn doesn't even think before inhaling the smoke coming out of Louis' mouth, and they keep shotgunning like that, back and forth, till the spliff’s burned down to the filter.

"It's all gone," Zayn says, flicking it off the railing.

"Thank god," Louis murmurs, leaning in again and catching Zayn's lips in a long, slow, searing kiss, one that has Zayn moaning freely, sliding his hands up and down Louis' back till they settle on his arse. He gives it an experimental squeeze and Louis gasps, biting his lip and then trying to climb up Zayn’s body, moving to wrap his legs around Zayn's hips. Zayn somehow manages to turn and press Louis up against the side of the house, letting his torso hold Louis up as Louis locks his ankles behind Zayn's back.

He's high and a bit drunk but even that can't muddle his senses when he gets his hands on Louis. He can feel _everything_ , the rough brush of Louis' stubble against his, the small gasps and moans Louis lets out against his skin as Zayn ruts against him, the way Louis' blunt nails scratch at Zayn's back through his thin top. It's even more intoxicating than anything Zayn's done all night and he's dizzy with it, doesn't even know how long it's been that he's been out here with Louis when his own cock jerks in his pants and he can feel himself close to coming. He forces his hips to stop moving, hisses as Louis continues to buck his own hips up.

"Louis, we--I'm gonna come in my pants," he mumbles, as Louis ghosts his lips over Zayn's ear, then down his neck.

"Good, you deserve it," Louis replies, then finally pulls back, panting, when he realizes that Zayn's stopped moving. He scowls. "So what, then, you just want to stop now? Can't handle a little bit of exhibitionism? You're not as fun as I thought."

Zayn practically growls, mind still a bit fuzzy and slow to comprehend the insult, and presses up against Louis more. "I have nothing against getting myself off here with you," he starts, gripping Louis' arse tighter and watching his eyelids flutter. "And I don’t even fucking care who watches. But I'd rather have you naked in my bed when I make you come."

Louis squeezes his eyes shut, as if even he's willing himself not to come right then and there, and Zayn smirks, nipping at Louis' neck. 

"No marks," Louis mutters.

"Too late," Zayn mumbles stubbornly, lips suckling at the soft, spicy-scented skin under Louis' ear.

"You _twat_ ," Louis says, finally loosening his legs from their position and settling himself back on his feet, though he wobbles a bit when he tries to get his balance. "How far away do you live?"

"Like, a five, ten-minute walk, maybe?" Zayn says, and Louis makes a face.

"Ugh, _fine_ ," he says, ironing out the small creases on his top with his hands. He grabs one of Zayn's, walking over to the sliding glass door. "Let's go, then."

 

Zayn watches, amazed and amused, as Louis quickly and efficiently maneuvers them through the throng of people at the party and out the door. He catches a glimpse of Harry and Niall, still wrapped up in each other, though Harry manages to break his attention away from the boy clinging onto him for long enough to laugh when he sees the two of them walk by, giving Zayn a wink of acknowledgement.

Even once they get outside and Zayn takes over, leading Louis in the direction of his flat, Louis doesn't let go of his hand. It's a bit uncharacteristic of Louis, or at least of the Louis that he knows, but it’s still unbearably cute, so Zayn decides to not comment and just enjoy it instead.

The night's a bit chilly but not overly so. Zayn can feel his head start to clear up with the brisk air, though, and he feels substantially more sober, so he uses his free hand to pull the pack of cigs out of his back pocket and slide one in between his lips.

"Can I bum one?" Louis asks, and Zayn raises his eyebrow, surprised.

"I didn't know you smoked," he mumbles, as he puts a second cig in his mouth.

Louis watches him with rapt attention. "I work in the fucking fashion industry," he gives as a reply, as he watches Zayn curiously, and Zayn chuckles, nodding in understanding. He puts the pack back in his pocket and pulls out his lighter, lighting both cigs and taking a strong pull of them before taking one out from his lips and handing it to Louis.

"Greedy," Louis comments, sucking on the cigarette, letting the smoke curl out of his nostrils. It's too sexy, the way the smoke contrasts so much with how sharp so much of Louis is. Louis is all angles, it seems, pointed glances and cutting words and high cheekbones, but the smoke, though only temporarily inside of Louis, seems to soften him a bit, rounds out his edges and brings out the plushness of his mouth. Louis must catch Zayn staring at him, because he gives him a bit of an incredulous look.

"Sorry," Zayn says, a bit embarrassed, and turns to look at where they're going. "My place is right up here," he says, motioning to the high-rise not too far away.

Louis stops, blinking up at the building then looking over at Zayn, unbelieving. "You're shitting me."

"Um," Zayn starts, glancing between the building and Louis, confused. "No?"

"Zayn, this is where _I_ live," Louis says, eyebrows raised, and Zayn's move to match, a shocked laugh falling from his mouth as Louis’ lips twitch upwards.

"Great minds," he says eventually, smirking, and crosses the street in front of them, tugging Louis along.

"How did neither of us know that we lived in the same place?" Louis asks, as the doorman lets them in. Zayn shrugs. 

"We have different schedules, I guess?" he says slowly, but Zayn thinks it must be more about them never really talking, never interacting for more than just a handful of shoots a year. This is the first time Louis has even acknowledged Zayn at a party, let alone had an actual conversation with him that didn’t involve the two of them shooting insults at each other, and Zayn has no idea why Louis picked _now_ of all times to suddenly show an interest in him. It almost makes Zayn doubt what they’re doing, a bit disheartened at their overall relationship, now that he's really thinking about it. He kind of wants to not do this, since Louis is--well, he’s a tornado, isn’t he, one that Zayn gets swept up into every single time they come close to each other, but he’s more than just the biting professional Zayn knows on set. Zayn’s seen it in the way Louis sometimes turns away when he’s taking calls, tears in the corners of his eyes when he faces the set again, or how his entire demeanor changes whenever there’s any kids on set for the shoots, how there’s more light in his eyes and authenticity in his laugh, in his smile.

Louis is someone that Zayn wants to be involved with for as long as he can be, someone he wants to explore, wants to write about and paint and draw and _experience_ , and he’s afraid that if he falls into this too fast, he won’t ever really be able to do everything the way he wants to.

 

Zayn must be staring, because Louis raises an eyebrow at him and then pushes him into the lift when it finally arrives. He watches Zayn intently as Zayn pushes the button for the 35th floor and then crinkles his nose, annoyed. Zayn raises an eyebrow.

"What?"

"You live on a floor higher than me."

"And that's…bad?"

" _Yes_ , it's like. A status thing," Louis says, waving his hand around. 

Zayn smirks. "Does this mean that I get to top?" 

Louis rolls his eyes. 

"I mean, technically," Zayn continues, turning so that he's facing Louis, trapping the other man between the wall and himself, "between the two of us, I'm literally the one on top."

"Fuck you," Louis says, but then pulls Zayn in for a kiss. They snog until the lift dings and then break apart, breathless, Zayn wasting no time in pulling Louis out and walking him over to his door. 

He manages to open the door smoothly, thank _god_ , and once Louis has walked in behind him, he spins around, pushing Louis against the door.

"This seems to be a recurring theme tonight," Louis gasps, as Zayn leans in and bumps their noses together. "You pressing me up against every surface possible."

Zayn chuckles. "You implying that it's something you don't want to do anymore?"

"Now, I never said that," Louis replies, breath hitching a bit as Zayn’s hands travel below his waistband, brushing against where his cock is jutting out through his trousers.

"Switch things up, then, if you want," Zayn says, smiling back. "I won't stop you."

Louis hums in consideration and then, before Zayn realizes it, he's got Zayn pressed against the door instead. Fuck. Whatever worries Zayn had about this, whatever small hesitations he’d built up suddenly vanish into thin air as he watches Louis size him up. He knows he’s thinking with his cock but he can’t fucking help it. He’s never been this turned on in his _life_.

"Ta-da," Louis sings, and then kisses Zayn open-mouthed, not even being subtle with what he's aiming for. He breaks away, lips shining, then slides down to his knees and starts unbuttoning Zayn's trousers.

"Fuck," Zayn says, but then his brain catches up with what Louis is doing. "Wait, no, hold on--"

Louis sighs, annoyed. "I thought you said you wouldn't stop me."

"No, I just," Zayn licks his lips. "I really wanted to suck _you_ off."

"Oh," Louis says, looking pleasantly surprised. "Well, in that case, I do feel like I should let you know that there's definitely a way we can suck each other off at the same time."

"Shut the hell up," Zayn quips, but he's smiling, pulling Louis up and then holding him by his thighs so Louis has no choice but to wrap his legs around Zayn again.

"Shit," Louis says, as he's lifted off the floor. "You're stronger than you look."

"Is that so?"

"Yeah, with your skinny little arms and toothpick legs. Have you _seen_ my arse?"

"Trust me, Louis, I look at almost nothing else," Zayn answers, as he kicks open the door to his bedroom, grateful that it's not ridiculously messy like it often is. He drops Louis down on the bed, laughing as he squawks a bit when he bounces.

"Pervert," Louis comments, biting his lip as he watches Zayn take his shirt off. "Might as well take your jeans off too. It's nothing I haven't seen before."

Zayn raises an eyebrow. It's true, he's done so many shoots in his underwear or in the nude that seeing him naked might not even be that surprising for Louis. So he complies, sliding his bottoms off and then his briefs with it, leaving him standing in front of Louis completely starkers, cock hard and already leaking a little bit.

He can see Louis gulp, watches as Louis' gaze zeroes in on his dick and stays there. Louis makes no move to take his own clothes off, though.

"Planning on getting naked anytime soon?" he asks, trying to make his voice sound casual and not as shaky as he feels. He grips his own cock, trying to stave off some of the nervousness, and starts jacking himself off slowly. 

That must break Louis out of his stupor, because he blinks up at Zayn, kind of analyzing him for a second, before shrugging. "If you want my clothes off, then take them off yourself," he says, a hint of mirth in his eyes. 

 

Zayn's mouth goes dry, and he licks his lips as he squeezes the base of his cock and walks toward the bed, crawling onto it on his knees. It's unbearably hot, being completely naked and open in front of a fully-clothed Louis, and he's sure that both of them know exactly who's in control. He takes a shuddering breath as he runs his palms up and down Louis' thighs and feels his cock blurt out some more precome.

"God, you're _really_ turned on by this, huh?" Louis mutters, as Zayn's hands give him away by shaking a little bit as he unbuttons Louis' jeans. He stays silent though, a little too embarrassed to actually say anything, instead just peeling the skin-tight fabric off of Louis' skin and hoping that the way his cock jerks in response is a good enough answer to Louis' question.

Louis is quiet as Zayn takes his shirt off then, humming as Zayn's fingers brush down his ribs and rest on the dip of his back afterwards. He pulls Zayn in for a kiss, moaning as Zayn slides his tongue in alongside Louis' at the same time his fingers slip underneath Louis' waistband and press into his bum.

Louis lifts his hips up in invitation and Zayn pulls Louis' underwear off, stretching it over his knees and practically yanking it off of Louis' legs. 

"Eager, are we?" Louis asks, and Zayn stays silent once more, instead kissing Louis deep and leaning forward until he's laying on top of the other man, hot skin against hot skin, their hard cocks bumping up against each other.

"Fuck," Zayn finally moans, breaking his silence, and Louis hums in acknowledgement, palming Zayn's ass and pushing it down so they can grind against each other properly. " _Fuck_."

"You wanna?" Louis asks, and Zayn shudders and bites Louis' shoulder, willing himself to not come yet.

"Don't--god, shut up, _shit_ , I'm gonna come--" Zayn stutters.

"No you're not," Louis says, calmly, and Zayn gasps with arousal as Louis flips them over and then kneels over Zayn's thighs, smirking. "We had other plans, remember?"

Louis lifts himself off of Zayn, turning himself around and rearranging himself so he's breathing over Zayn's cock, which is slick with precome by now.

"Wait, I-- _unh_ ," Zayn groans, as Louis licks around the base of his cock. He doesn't give Zayn any time to think before he easily takes it into his mouth, moaning eagerly as he sucks on the head. He pulls off after a minute, licking up the side of Zayn’s dick slowly.

“Perrie make you squirm like this?” he says, and it’s so quiet that Zayn barely notices, but once he realizes what Louis’ said, his heart stops.

  
“No,” Zayn answers truthfully, biting his lip, and it must be what Louis was waiting for, since he gets his mouth around Zayn once again, sucking even harder than before.

Zayn gasps, his hips bucking up before Louis grunts and presses them down, keeping him in place. He's shaking once more but he somehow manages to guide Louis' legs over his shoulders and wrap a hand around Louis' cock, letting its wet head slide against his lips, his tongue darting out to lick at the slit while it spurts precome into his mouth.

"Zayn, jesus _christ_ ," Louis slurs, lifting his head up and slowly lowering his hips, feeding his length into Zayn's mouth. Zayn moans loudly and relaxes, opening his jaw wider so that Louis can fuck in and out of his mouth easily. He's sure it's glorious fucking sight, and just thinking about it makes him moan again, cock jerking where it's resting in Louis' slack grip.

" _Zayn_ ," Louis mumbles, moaning more unintelligible words Zayn is trying so hard to make out but can't with the way all the blood in his body seems to be rushing down to his dick. Louis is moving torturously slowly, so all he can focus on is smooth slide of Louis' length in and out of his throat, Louis' balls slipping over his nose. Zayn knows he should be more involved, though, should somehow help Louis--and maybe himself--so he finally gets his head together and lifts his limp hands up from where they'd been clenched in the sheets, gently laying them on Louis' arse. 

He smooths his palms over the soft, sweat-damp skin, waiting until Louis' all the way inside his mouth before squeezing his arsecheeks, spreading them apart a bit and taking a harsh breath through his nose so he doesn't choke himself to death. 

"Oh, _fuck_ ," Louis curses, taking that as his cue to pick up the pace, and he _finally_ does what Zayn's been waiting for since they got into this position, bucking his hips up and down faster and faster till he's actually legitimately fucking Zayn's mouth. 

Zayn can feel tears running down the side of his face and he must look a mess by now, jaw sore and hair sticking to his sweaty forehead, but he only moans and wraps an arm below the swell of Louis' bum, holding his pelvis down against his chest so Louis is forced to reduce his movements to shallow thrusts instead. 

" _God_ , I'm gonna--fucking--" Louis starts, and Zayn waits until he feels Louis' balls draw up tight against his face before pushing Louis' hips off so only the head of Louis' cock is touching his lips, jerking against them as Louis' come spurts out against his mouth, cheeks and chin. He licks his lips slowly, trying to taste as much as he can, and it takes him a second to realize he's shaking with the aftermath, though he hasn't even come yet himself.

Louis' legs are shaking just as much as he gets himself onto unstable hands and knees, slowly climbing off from above Zayn and collapsing next to him. He turns to look over and sucks in a surprised breath at Zayn's face, which must look beyond ruined by now.

Zayn licks his lips again, feeling the drying come on his face crack a bit as his face moves. It's gross, but still pretty hot, so doesn't make any move to clean himself up, just tries to clear his already sore throat.

"You gonna get me off or am I going to have to do it myself?" he asks, raising an eyebrow, but all Louis does is mimic his movement and shrug. Zayn tries to look annoyed, or even disappointed, but his body gives him away, shuddering in response to Louis' denial instead. 

So he slides a hand down his body carefully, wrapping it around his painfully hard cock, hips bucking up automatically even at his own touch. He's still so turned on, even more so now that Louis is just _watching_ him get himself off, not even bothering to lift a finger to help Zayn out, making Zayn do all the work even though he's the one who looks completely destroyed at the moment.

"You look good, Zayn," Louis murmurs, possibly as encouragement, and Zayn gasps as Louis finally reaches over and rubs his thumbnail against Zayn's hard nipple. "Gonna come for me now? Get yourself even messier?"

Zayn moans and finally gets his hips moving, as if he had been waiting for permission from Louis to do so--without even realizing it--and he fucks up into his hand eagerly, reaching his other hand down to palm at the head of his cock, like he likes.

"Answer me, Zayn," Louis says, a bit sternly, punctuating his words with a hard pinch to Zayn's nipples.

"I-- _yes_ ," Zayn hisses out, and comes, harder than he remembers in _ages_. "Louis," he hears himself mumbling, over and over, as his hips jerk up and off the bed, and Louis hums as answer, eyes glued to where Zayn's cock pumps out more and more come. 

 

Zayn doesn't even know how long it is till he stops, but he blinks his eyes open, sighing sleepily and breathing deeply for the first time since he'd laid down.

"Damn," he hears Louis say, and turns to see Louis laying on his side, head propped up on his elbow, watching Zayn almost--endearingly? Zayn blinks at him, then gives him a slow smile. "Not bad, Malik."

Zayn grunts, stretching his arms above his head till they give a satisfying crack. "I'd say the same to you," he starts, his voice beyond hoarse, turning to look at Louis with an eyebrow raised, "but you didn't do shit."

Louis grins and shrugs. "It was more fun to watch."

"I'm sure," Zayn replies dryly. 

"You're disgusting right now," Louis says, but almost fascinated, reaching over and tracing a finger through the pool of cum on Zayn's stomach, spreading it around.

"Thanks," Zayn answers, then glances down to where Louis' hand is. "You--are you _signing your name_?" 

Louis laughs, bright and twinkling, and Zayn just stares at him, floored. He feels a smile grow slowly on his face until he's laughing along, shaking his head in amazement. 

"You're fucking ridiculous," Zayn says, then makes a valiant effort to sit up, which is quickly undermined by Louis pushing him back down. 

"Where're you going?"

"To take a shower, you tit. As _you_ so kindly pointed out, I'm pretty fucking disgusting right now."

"Yeah, but," Louis starts, glancing from Zayn's face to his spent cock, a small blush high on his cheeks, "it's pretty hot."

It's Zayn's turn to laugh now, but he doesn't try to get off the bed just to appease Louis, instead just laying there, letting Louis look over him with hungry eyes.

"You really liked me telling you what to do, huh?" he asks then, quietly. Zayn looks over, and Louis looks almost nervous now, speaking hesitantly. It's really fucking cute.

"Yeah, 'course," he answers, smiling. "I get a boner every time we're on set together."

"You--" Louis says, eyes wide. "I--really?"

Zayn chuckles. "You really never noticed? I thought you yelled at me just to rile me up."

"No, I just," Louis starts, biting his lip. "No one really tries to talk back to me, y'know? People are always running around like chickens with their heads cut off whenever I tell them to do something. Everyone is scared and afraid to even just approach me or whatever but you--like. You fight back. I like that."

"I can't _stand_ people yelling at me, especially when I know I didn't do anything wrong," Zayn explains.

"Don't get cocky. You couldn't model a fucking watch before you met me," Louis says, and Zayn chuckles. "But I guess I--well, it was hot, y'know? You talking back to me. Negating my authority or whatever. And then I figured that maybe if you weren't scared of talking to me, maybe you'd actually want to kiss me. Or something."

Zayn laughs again and motions to his body. "Or something."

It’s quiet for a moment before Zayn clears his throat, ready to ask about the one thing that’s been nagging him the entire night.

“Why now?”

Louis frowns. “How do you mean?”

“I mean,” Zayn starts, sighing, “we’ve known each other for years, Louis. This--honestly, I’ve been ready for this to happen since the first shoot we had together. So why did you pick now to suddenly try anything with me? I’d basically assumed that you just weren’t into me at this point.”

Louis sits up a bit, leaning on his elbow. “Have you _seen_ your face? How could you have thought that I was _not_ into you?” 

Zayn shrugs, smiling. Louis shakes his head. “I just--I always liked you, Zayn. And your attitude too, like I just said. I guess I just, um. Took you for granted?”

Now Zayn’s confused. “How so?”

“You were always around, just _there_ for me to see and tease and fight with and I don’t know what I was waiting for, maybe it was for you to make the first move or something, but--I saw--like, you have to know that you and Perrie were literally a trending topic on Twitter, Zayn, and I just--it hit me like a ton of bricks right then, how much I liked you. And I was just fucking devastated that I’d let you slip through my fingers like that.”

Zayn stares at Louis, shocked and amazed. “Are you serious?” he asks.

Louis laughs. “Unbelievably so. And I’m so fucking glad none of it’s real.” He stops then and tenses up, locking eyes with Zayn. “You told me it’s not serious. It’s not real, Zayn, right?”

“Of course not,” Zayn answers, lifting a hand up and brushing it over Louis’ cheek. “You’ve literally been the only person on my mind for two fucking years.”

Louis smirks. “Good. Now don’t make me get any more sentimental, Malik. It’s not a good emotion on me.”

“I don’t think that’s true.” Zayn smiles. “I think you look pretty cute when you actually prove you have a heart.”

“Hush,” Louis chides, poking at Zayn’s stomach. Zayn scowls, pushing Louis’ hands away from the dried mess on his abs. The hair of his happy trail’s getting caught in the dry come now and it’s way past uncomfortable, now that he’s focusing his attention on it.

Louis smirks, recognizing Zayn’s discomfort. "Bet you wanna get cleaned up now, huh?"

"That'd be nice."

"What if--what if I told you not to? Clean up, I mean?" Louis licks his lips. "Would you, um. Not? Or--"

"I wouldn't," Zayn answers immediately. "Not if you didn't want me to."

"No matter how uncomfortable you got?" Louis asks, eyes widening.

"I'd probably get hard because of it, to be honest," Zayn shrugs. "And then let you come on me again."

" _God_ ," Louis whispers, sounding amazed. "That's so fucking hot."

"Tell me about it," Zayn replies, smirking.

"Honestly, I'd kiss you right now if you weren't so disgusting."

"Wow. Thanks, bro," Zayn mutters, as if they both don't know whose fault it is that he's in the state he's in. "So, um," he clears his throat. "Can I? Like, get cleaned up, I mean?"

Louis smirks, looking the most smug Zayn's ever seen him--which is saying something, really. But he shrugs and nods, so Zayn sighs gratefully and _finally_ drags his arse out of bed. 

 

It always takes Zayn at least a half hour to get through his shower, so he's not surprised that Louis barges into the bathroom near the tail end of him cleaning himself off.

"Oh, hello," he says, amused, as he watches Louis step into his shower. "Y'alright?"

"You take far too long to fucking shower," Louis replies, stepping into the spray of water and then groaning. "But no fucking wonder. Your shower is _so_ much better than mine. Why do _you_ get such good water pressure?"

"I live on a higher floor, remember?" Zayn answers, laughing when Louis glares at him. "Apparently that means something or whatever."

Louis grumbles something that sounds an awful like "fucking _wanker_ " and sighs, turning around so the spray beats against his back. 

"Comfortable?" Zayn asks. Louis shrugs.

"A bit, I guess," he replies, sliding his arms up Zayn's shoulders and crossing them behind his neck. 

Zayn smiles, letting Louis pull him into a long, slow kiss, so unlike what they've done before. It's nice, and Zayn sighs into it, basically putty in Louis' hands after just a minute.

"Hmm," Louis says, after they pull apart, combing his fingers through Zayn's hair. "You're really fit, y'know?"

"It's been mentioned once or twice," Zayn mumbles, almost purring as Louis scratches his scalp. "'M gonna fall asleep in the shower if you keep doing that."

Louis pauses his movements, then cocks his head, contemplating. "No you're not," he says, finally.

Zayn blinks at him. "Okay."

"Good boy," Louis says, and Zayn curses at how his stomach swoops at that. Louis looks delighted.

"Let's go to bed," he says, finally, and Zayn follows him out of the shower, toweling himself off as he watches Louis do the same. He doesn't even try to hide how he's checking Louis out, and Louis catches his gaze in the mirror and smirks at him.

"Like what you see?" he asks, and Zayn shrugs, trying to look disinterested.

"Maybe," he comments, then twists his towel and smacks Louis in the bum with it. Louis yelps and Zayn laughs, running out of the bathroom.

"Get _back_ here," Louis cries, then jumps and tackles Zayn onto the bed. "You _twat_."

"I can't help it," Zayn laughs, as Louis sits on top of him. "If I can't slap your face, I have to slap _something_."

"You're gonna fucking pay for that," Louis says, laughing as well. He reaches up and pins Zayn's wrists to the bed, sliding back at the same time so that his bum is suddenly on top of Zayn's cock. Zayn shuts up immediately and shudders, his eyes widening as Louis leans down and nips at his earlobe. "But I'm sure we can work something out."

 

\------

 

"Who is _that_?" Niall says, when Zayn walks onto set. Zayn stops, confused, giving himself an up-down.

"Um. It's me?" he says. Niall rolls his eyes.

"No, you idiot. _Behind_ you."                                   

"Oh," Zayn says, then turns. And stops in his tracks.

There's this tall, broad-shouldered, David Beckham lookalike walking in through the door. He looks around, a bit confused, then manages to see Zayn and smiles, walking forward.

"Hello," he says, in a smooth voice. 

"Hello?" Zayn replies. The man raises an eyebrow.

"I'm Liam? The model working with you on this shoot? I'm a bit new at this whole gig, sorry, it's--I'm a bit starstruck at the moment, I apologize." He holds a hand out, and Zayn gives him a smile, shaking it.

"Good to meet you," he says. "Sorry, I never know anything about my shoots. I'm awful. Anyway, shall we?" Zayn nods towards the set. Liam smiles and walks alongside him.

 

Liam is fun and easy to talk to from the get-go. He gets along with Niall great and charms the pants off of Harry--figuratively--in an instant. It's refreshing to Zayn, meeting a model who's so down-to-earth and easy to get along with.

Zayn walks into the makeup area after a while and sits down, ready for Lou to fix him up. Harry's just lounging there, to no surprise. He's made friends with basically every person on set and Zayn knows he's had a soft spot for Lux since he met her.

"What's our shoot today again?" he asks, after a minute. Harry gives him a disappointed look.

"Just because you've been in a million shoots doesn't mean you should just not care about what you have to do in them."

Zayn shrugs. "That doesn't answer my question."

Harry rolls his eyes. "This is a _nude_ shoot, you twat."

"Oh," Zayn says, then realizes what that means. " _Oh_."

" _Yeah_ ," Harry says, then laughs. 

"Fuck. Where's--Louis is going to--" Zayn starts, but is interrupted by a loud holler on set.

"What the _fuck_ ," someone screams. 

"Speak of the devil," Harry mutters, giving Zayn a look. Zayn groans and drops his head over the back of the chair.

"Fuck."

"Zayn," Louis' voice calls. Zayn hears footsteps and turns to see Louis pull back the curtain in front of him. "You. Me. Loo. Now."

"Use protection," Harry calls, as Louis drags Zayn away, and both of them turn to flip the man off.

 

"What the _fuck_ ," Louis repeats, when they get inside the bathroom. "What the fuck, Zayn, have you seen--"

"Beckham 2.0?" Zayn offers, then stifles a laugh at Louis' answering glare. "Sorry, sorry."

"A fucking _nude_ shoot and they pick that--that--"

"Lou, why _wouldn't_ they pick him? You've seen him."

"Yeah, but," Louis scrubs his face. "You're--it's _nude_ , Zayn, and you're going to be--I don't--" Louis huffs, crossing his arms across his chest. Zayn raises an eyebrow, intrigued.

"You don't what?"

Louis sighs, looking a bit embarrassed as he walks forward, smoothing down Zayn's shirt and then letting his hands rest on Zayn's shoulders. "I don't want to see my--" he glances up at Zayn, "my _boyfriend_ , um. Rolling around naked with someone else. Okay?"

Zayn grins. "I'm your boyfriend, huh?"

"Shut up," Louis mutters, smacking Zayn on the chest. He's blushing, though, and it's so adorable.

"Louis, it's been, like. More than two months since we started going out," Zayn says, softly, smiling at the statement. It'd been a bit weird at first, mostly because they had a hard time actually finding free time to spend together, so they hadn't been able to go out on dates or anything, and their relationship had just consisted of quick fucks here and there when they had a spare minute. It helped that they lived literally above and underneath each other, though, so they never had to travel far to meet up, at least. Louis had gotten so annoyed by the fact that he'd been unable to see Zayn properly, though, that he had a long, loud, half-hour phone call with some people and had gotten everything changed around so that whenever Zayn was at a shoot, Louis would be the one coordinating it. 

The first time they'd showed up on set holding hands, about a month ago, no one had been able to stop staring. Sure, there were some whispers and cut-off conversations whenever Zayn walked into a room, but he'd been expecting that, especially since the public story had been that Zayn had dumped Perrie pretty harshly for Louis. It was a bit unfair to him but their teams wanted more drama out of the breakup for more press or something, and Zayn figured he’d take the hits and let Perrie be. She was a sweet girl, she didn’t deserve it. The fallout hadn't really been too bad, though--the worst part of it all was when they'd publicly announced that they were a couple, and a horrendous picture of him and Louis stumbling out of a nightclub together, arms around each other's waists, had been plastered on the cover of The Sun. Louis' face was mostly hidden but Zayn looked absolutely awful. So, of course, Louis had set that photo as his Twitter icon immediately.

They still bickered on set, of course, but at least now everyone knew it wasn't as mean-hearted, and no one was as on-edge as they'd been before. It still turned Zayn on like anything, though, and now him and Louis always had to schedule the hour after a photoshoot together as 'personal time' so that they could fuck everything out of their systems.  

"Yeah, so?" Louis says, then, and it breaks Zayn out of the mini-flashback he'd been having. He stops and tries to rewind to think about what he'd just said, and then smiles when he recalls it.

"Well, I mean," he starts again, "it's about time you called me your boyfriend."

"You should know better than to expect anything like that from me."

"I know. Which is why I hadn't brought it up at all."

Louis sighs, biting his lip and looking up at Zayn. "Thanks."

Zayn smirks, leaning in to kiss Louis. He makes it short and soft, then gives him another, and another, not stopping until Louis is laughing and pushing him away.

"What're you afraid of?" Zayn asks. "Obviously no one's ever going to have an ass like yours. I'm yours," he adds, squeezing Louis' bum to prove his point.

"True," Louis concedes. "Kiss me again."

Zayn obliges, making this one long and deep so that Louis is breathless by the time they break apart. 

"You good?" Zayn asks.

Louis smiles. "I'm good," he says, sighing and pushing off from Zayn. "Now go ahead and get to makeup. I can't believe you've wasted so much time already, it's so fucking unprofessional."

 

By the time Zayn walks back onto set--only in mostly face makeup, thank God, they hadn't tried to cover up his tattoos this time--Louis seems to have calmed down a bit, already teasing Liam enough to have Liam laugh nervously at everything he says, probably mostly out of fear of something bad happening if he didn't. Louis is really enjoying it, though, and Zayn can already tell that he's completely gotten over Liam as a threat. 

"Hello, lads," he says, walking up and slinging an arm around Louis' shoulders. Louis leans back into a bit and Zayn nuzzles his hair. "Still good?" he asks, just loud enough for Louis to hear. Louis squeezes his hand in affirmation, so Zayn relaxes a bit and then offers a smile to Liam. "Ready to go, mate?"

"Ready if you are," Liam says, smiling, and the two of them walk onto set. It's some kind of very mod, simple, black-and-white set, just a few metallic boxes here and there for them to pose on together.

"Get those cock socks off," Harry says, and Niall laughs, turning into a chant. In no time at all, the entire set is laughingly yelling "cock-socks-off!" demandingly so Zayn rolls his eyes and pulls his off, flipping everyone off right after as they wolf-whistle. He turns back to make sure Liam's done it too. 

He has, but he's got a blush high on his cheeks, though Zayn can tell he's trying really hard to not look nervous or embarrassed. He gives Liam a friendly pat on the back. "You're good, bro."

Liam lets out a breath he'd probably been holding and gives Zayn a smile. "I'm sorry, I've never--not with another guy, at least, and--"

Zayn shrugs. "Not too different, to be honest. Just try and be sexy, y'know? Don't worry if you get a stiffy or anything, we're all professionals here, we'll ignore it."

"Oh, I'm not--I, um," Liam stutters, looking pinker than before. "I'm straight."

Zayn raises an eyebrow. "Okay?"

"So I won't--"

"You don't control what turns you on, Liam," Zayn says, smirking. "Plus, I'm pretty lithe. I'm sure you've seen the shoot I did in drag."

"I don't--" Liam starts, looking flustered.

"Don't worry," Zayn interrupts, winking at him. "I'll take it as a compliment."

 

"Okay boys, stop flirting and start doing what we're paying you a ridiculous amount of money for," Louis calls out. Zayn looks up and he's smiling, though, so he doesn't look too bothered.

"Wait, you lot are getting _paid_ for this?" Niall jokes.

"Shut up, Horan. Harry, do your fucking job."

"Right away, Lewis," Harry replies, as Louis throws him a dirty look. "Let's do some standing shots first, yeah? I want Zayn in front, leaning back--yeah, like that--Liam bring your arms up a bit?" 

Zayn moves easily with Harry's direction, but he can tell Liam's a bit stiff, unsure of where to put his hands. It's after a couple minutes of uncomfortable poses that Louis finally pipes up.

"Oh for _christ's sake_ , Liam, get over the fact that Zayn's got a penis! I know he doesn't have much of an arse, but everyone pretty much looks the same from behind. Use your fucking imagination and get over your fear of having your dick touch anyone else's."

Liam's cheek blaze red at that, but something in him finally settles into place and he snaps into a professional, working mode, immediately pulling Zayn close and amping up the intimacy by a million. It's yet again a testament to how good Louis is at his job, how he knows _exactly_ what to say to bring the best out in people. No wonder he was teasing Liam earlier, he was probably trying to get a good read on the bloke to figure out how he could work him the way he needed to.

"Now _that's_ more like it," Harry encourages, snapping tons of photos as Zayn and Liam fall into each other. Liam takes initiative and spins Zayn around, then, slotting their thighs together and tucking his face into the junction between Zayn's neck and shoulder. This time, when Zayn's head falls back, it isn't something he has to think about.

The next half hour is a bit of a whirlwind, and Zayn's trying as hard as he can to not get a boner as he and Liam are entwined on the floor, practically humping each other, but it's incredibly difficult. He's avoiding it partly because it's a bit embarrassing, but also because he doesn't want Louis to lash out against a completely innocent model who's just doing his job. Well, realistically, he knows Louis is more of a professional than that, but he's seen how jealous and possessive Louis can get, especially over him, so he just wants to play it safe.

"Let's call a break, boys," Louis says, finally, and Zayn breathes a sigh of relief as Liam untangles the two of them.

"You good?" Liam asks, and Zayn just blinks at him, confused. 

"Um, yeah, yeah. You?" he asks, but Liam just smirks at him.

"I've been good for a while, but. We were pretty closely pressed, Zayn. I could feel everything." He winks at Zayn. "Don't worry. I'll take it as a compliment."

Zayn flips Liam off as Liam laughs and stands up, walking away. He looks up when he hears footsteps approaching and sees Louis walk over and poke Zayn's bum with his foot.

"Ha! I just kicked your arse," Louis says, and Zayn rolls his eyes and rolls himself over too. Louis' eyes widen. "Well, well, well," he says. "We've had fun, haven't we?"

"Shut _up_ ," Zayn complains, standing up and hiding behind Louis so no one sees that he's gotten a little bit hard. "You can't blame me. He's pretty fucking fit."

"Mhmm," Louis says incredulously. "Need a little help with that?"

A smile grows on Zayn's face. "Yeah?"

Louis rolls his eyes now. "C'mon," he mutters, pulling Zayn over to the bathroom. "But you owe me."

He pushes Zayn in and locks the door, sinking down to his knees immediately. "Shit," Zayn mutters. "Yeah, babe, anything."

Louis hums as he tugs at Zayn's cock, watching it stiffen up easily in his grip. "And," he says, sticking his tongue out to lap at the head, "if you _dare_  to get even a little bit hard again at this shoot today, I'm not letting you fucking come for a _week_."

Well, shit. Zayn definitely can't be blamed for how quickly he shoots off into Louis' mouth after that. He's fucked.

 

\------

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> DISCLAIMER #2: I DON'T THINK ZERRIE IS FAKE IRL I'M SORRY!
> 
> Also, Louis' actual job title is photo shoot coordinator. [You can look here to see what they do](http://work.chron.com/photo-shoot-coordinator-22712.html).
> 
> You can catch me on [Tumblr](http://slashter.tumblr.com) or [Twitter](http://twitter.com/slashter_fic)!


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